ECHOES OF THE ANCIENT

The road narrowed as Blessing and her grandmother walked toward their new home. The village lay behind them, quiet under the evening sky, while the bushland stretched ahead, thick with the hum of crickets and the rustle of unseen creatures. “Is it far?” Blessing asked, her hands tightening around the small bag she carried. “Not far,” her grandmother replied. Her voice was calm, but Blessing noticed how she kept glancing over her shoulder, as if making sure nothing followed them. At last, they reached the house. It was old—its wooden frame sagged slightly, its windows clouded with dust. Behind it grew a bush so dense and dark it seemed to swallow the light of the setting sun. Blessing stopped. Something about the bush made her uneasy. She could have sworn the shadows beneath it shifted, though the air was still. Her grandmother touched her shoulder. “Do not stare at it too long,” she murmured. “The night will soon fall.” Inside, the house smelled of dust and damp wood, yet it felt lived in, as though someone had only just stepped out. A wooden chair stood near the fireplace. A cracked mirror leaned against the wall. Blessing placed her bag down. “Grandma, why did we move here?” Her grandmother’s eyes softened, but there was something guarded in her expression. “This is our family’s land. It is where I was born, where your ancestors lived. It is time we returned.” That night, as the moon rose, Blessing lay awake on her mat. The silence of the village pressed against the walls. Then she heard it—faint whispers, as though voices drifted through the window. She sat up, her heart thudding. The sound came from behind the house. From the bush. Blessing crept to the window. The moonlight spilled across the yard, pale and cold. The bush swayed gently though no wind stirred. And then she saw it—something darker than the shadows, standing just beyond the bush. Watching. Blessing gasped and stumbled back. But when she looked again, the figure was gone. Still, the whispers lingered, curling through the night air like a warning.